Murtagh alone
by Joce11
Summary: After the final batle,murtagh reflects on his past and wonders if he can change at all.He feels haunted, and finally ends up in ellesmera in a unknown tree. What is his fate now that he is in enemy terra?


**_This is probably my first and only Murtagh fanfic. I started it a while back and never got around to finishing it. the plotline in my head involved a romance, but...right now I'm too lazy to go on with it. I might pick it back up when the third book comes out because that will get me pumped for Eragon again, but at present, there will be no more chappies until later. Very later..._**

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Murtagh's eyes burned with a fierce intensity, the brown fathomless depths that were his eyes shone with rage and confusion. He was fighting a three-way battle, with 2 parts of himself, (that being the one that was confused and the other that was enraged) and one part that was his Crimson dragon, Thorn who would add a subtle comment here or there. Thorn was deftly acute of his rider's plight. If his rider was fighting with himself like this he would surely be on the path to insanity and desecration

'For Vrael's sake Murtagh, what is it??' his dragon thought exasperatedly.

Murtagh was pondering the events that had just happened. He had been training for that moment in time. The exact time to strike. 'That…that was so strange, I didn't think that Eragon would react that way Thorn.. t-the signs were few and far between, yes, but…that look on his face? It looked like he was looking at a monster. Is that what I have become?!' he practically shouted through his mind link.

He had just revealed that he and Eragon were in fact brothers. Morzon had been their father and they shared the same mother Selena who had run away. With a few large powerful flaps of Thorns leathery wings, they were on the ground, on the border of Du Welden Varden, the elves forest that held all of their secrets, including that of the location to their elven city ruled by Izlandzi. Murtagh leaped from Thorns red back and onto the ground. Well, not exactly leaped, it was sort of a mix of falling and collapsing to the dusty leaf-strewn ground…but for the sake of ending this sentence and confusing the reader even more, we'll say he "leaped". He let out an exhausted breath, a sigh enclosing all of his fears. The other half of himself answered his question.

'Of course you're a monster! Why do you think Galbatorix trained you for all that time? Granted, he gave you that dreadfully grotesque scar across your back, but that in a way shows tell of your power! Your immense desire to persevere and prove yourself!'

Thorn interjected: 'Now Murtagh, you are no monster. Galbatorix did have a plan for you, and you fulfilled what he had charged you with, so now that you are free of your duty, you are free to wander as you please.'

'SHUTUP!!' screamed Murtagh, out loud. 'You know full well that that is what I have become! I have loyalty to no one, and I live by my own rules. You are nothing but a mere puppet of my every whim.'

His confused side then said: 'No! Thorn is your dragon, you are his rider! We are bonded by blood and by mind. Riders have never broken that oath, unspoken but true in all the hearts of Riders preceding us.'

At Murtagh's enraged words, Thorn lashed his giant spiked tail in the direction of his rider. Murtagh looked up with a surprised flash of his dark eyes. He powerfully sprung off the dusty ground but for all his strength and speed, Thorn was faster and his battle scarred tail was stronger. With a rush of air and the dragon's red tail, Murtagh was hit in the midriff with a loud _THWAK_ that reverberated across the forest, frightening countless birds and other aerial fowl from there roosts within the lush trees. He came crashing rather ungracefully to the ground, flat on his black cloaked back with a _thud_. Having the wind knocked out of his lungs by his dragon, he gasped for breath. He could feel a large break in a vein in his chest, which would bear an immense bruise later. What would have killed an average man of his age or even older merely bruised his hardened flesh. His silver and black amour was thrashed in half, a gash from one of thorn's spikes obviously responsible for the damage. Ripping the now-useless scrap of amour from his frame, he got to his feet, stumbling with dizziness, but only for a moment. His dented helm hung haphazederly from his black haired dome.

He groaned outwardly at what his foolish words had caused. He was planning on casting some magic, to get back at Thorn for maiming his valuable amour. What spell to use? He thought, racking his brain for possible answers. He planted his feet, dark boots scuffing the ground, making indentations that presumed a great force was acting upon them. He lifted his head, a wolfish grin plastered across his strong face, with prominent cheekbones and more refined features that are gained by having a dragon as a companion and inside your mind. His gaze flew to a large boulder that was sitting prone and mossy covered under the shelter of a tall oak. He stretched out his right arm and pointed, hand erect, palm facing outward with the gedwey ignasia shining pale white.

"Risa!" his deep, pain filled voice uttered in the ancient language. The boulder began to rise quickly off of the ground and was heading toward his crimson dragon. His mussels buldged and tightened with the strength of magic coursing through him. The boulder was moving fast, but apparently not fast enough. Thorn, with unmatched speed and reflexes shot the boulder out of his path with a powerful unseen force. The force of the blow made Murtagh's hair fly back from his eyes, revealing his stunned facial features. The deadly missile was flung about 50 feet and landed with a crash in the middle of a stream, blocking the steadily flowing current.

'Murtagh, you forget that I can hear your thoughts, every action that you plan. Come now, we must make a camp if you are to recover from your own actions' Thorn reprimanded his rider with a cold booming voice.

'No! You have no right to treat me this way!' Murtagh retorted with a low growl from within his hardened chest

'Then you leave me no choice fool' Thorn growled with his lips curling back in a snarl, exposing his arm length daggers that filled his gaping maw.

'What are you going to do Thorn? Eat me?' he barked a laugh, cackling. This was truly his most deranged moment in life yet. All of his pain from previous years was coming out now, and there was no way to stop the destruction that had been bottled up in his mind. It was like a feral beast caged for far longer then it ever cared to be imprisoned, and now that it was being released, it would mercilessly rip every person limb from limb that had caused him pain.

'Wrong again Murtagh' Thorn answered. 'I would never eat you, humans taste dreadfully awful. But I would intentionally maim you for a while' he growled out.

Then, faster than Murtagh could spit back a reply, with a flash of wind and light, Thorn was hovering above Murtagh and he grasped him in his left talons. Murtagh screamed for all he was worth thinking of a way to escape his predicament, but found none. Thorn flew him over the sea of trees and with deft accuracy, released him from his deathly grip and flung him into the writhing mass of green. Murtgah fell for what must have been hours, but was in all reality seconds, with hard packed air, rushing past his cloaked form. His cloak snapped in the wind, his hair fell in his face distorting his vision; there was no time to act. None at all. He finally came crashing down on none other then the Great Menoa Tree. Out of the thousands of trees in all of Du Weldenvarden, wydra had brought him to land on the trunk of the massive tree, older then all of its counterparts in the immense forest.

He hit the side of the trunk with a loud smack. It reverberated as his skull hit the rough, yet fantastically smooth bark of the tree. A loud whoosh of breath came from his winded chest, because he now was slung like a cloth hung up too dry and a washer line. The tree had mercaesly clothesline him, and his black hair fell in his face as he assessed his surroundings, only to loose them from sight as his vision faded and he fell back into the dreamless void of unconscionness. There he hung for less then 2 days. Like a useless lump of humanity. Is this what the great Murtagh, the Red Rider was destined for? Lying in a stupid tree for more hours then he could probably count? As Wydra would have it, it was not to be. He was found less then a day later by a healer elf who took his limp body in her silky smooth arms and carried her unsettling burden back to the elven suite in ellesmera where he was nursed for a time, until he was back to perfect health, his battered and scarred body re-imaged and made better by the elves skills in healing the wounded.

He awoke with a start.

Blinking, perplexed from where he was, he examined his surroundings. His head snapped back in confusion as he was startled by the elven face directly in front of his. He scuffled back on what he saw now was a bed, with a sturdy wooden frame. It was green and covered with gentle velvety green cloth. "this bed is really smooth.. how do they do it?" he thought. But then was brought out of his mind again, by remembering that the elven woman was still standing directly above him, a smug smile upon her face.

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**So...Reviews** **would be noice**

**[to be continued... (dot dot dot) wait.. maybe not. depends on if Anyone likes it or not**


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